


Velvet

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedside Vigils, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Supernatural Elements, Surreal, magic perhaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:31:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: After the fall, a transformation takes place.





	Velvet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peacefrog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/gifts).



Will doesn’t know how to take care of the bullet wound in Hannibal’s lower abdomen, except to sew it closed on both sides with needle and thread, and to douse it in whiskey until Hannibal, still unconscious, groans in his sleep.

So he focuses on the other thing that’s happened since they pulled themselves out of the water.

There, on the crown of Hannibal’s head, two velvet-covered knobs of bone have begun to grow, poking up from his salt-stiff hair.

Will noticed them the first time when he was drying Hannibal’s hair. They were small enough to dismiss as wounds from the fall, twin goose eggs where his head had hit the rocks, perhaps. But as they began to grow visibly and quickly, Will recognized them for what they were.

 _Antlers_.

He watches them branch into two points, then four…six. Will thinks, possibly delirious from his own fever, that Hannibal might be an 18-point buck before long.

He adjusts the pillows beneath Hannibal’s head to accommodate the expanding antlers. Within a matter of hours, they’ve grown taller than his hand is long. The velvet covering them is the same gleaming silver as Hannibal’s hair.

Will wets a washcloth and holds it to Hannibal’s brow. A contented sigh tells him the touch is welcome. Still, he wishes Hannibal would wake up soon.

By sunset of the next day, the antlers have stopped growing. They’re a rack any stag would be proud to call his own, and they’ve outgrown their velvet, which has started to split and bleed.

Hannibal writhes in his sleep, and Will realizes he’s trying to scratch his new antlers against the bed posts.

“Don’t move,” Will tells him. “You’ll tear your stitches.”

Hannibal doesn’t wake up, but he stills as if he’s heard Will just the same.

“I’ll help,” Will says.

He starts with the velvet that’s already begun to peel away from the bone, and strips it off with his fingers. It’s strangely addicting, like pulling off bits of skin that have blistered and peeled after a bad sunburn. He scratches off more with his fingernails when it doesn’t want to peel easily. There is blood, but it’s not fresh. It’s thick and dark, the vascular system feeding the velvet has already died, having done its job.

“More, more,” Hannibal murmurs in his sleep.

Will scratches aggressively now, until his own fingers bleed and coat the antlers in red.

When the last shred of velvet is pried away, Hannibal finally opens his eyes.

“Are we alive?” he asks.

“I’m not really sure,” Will tells him.

Hannibal watches him for a while, gaze roving over his shoulders, up to his face and lingers there for a moment.

“How long have those been there?” Hannibal asks, looking at the top of Will’s head.

Will reaches up and finds his own antlers beginning to grow. There are four points already, and he can feel the movement of blood beneath the velvet, warm and quick. He wonders if they match his hair, like Hannibal’s own was silver.

“Are they dark?” Will asks.

Hannibal smiles at him. “The darkest.”

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday ficlet for @crossroadscastiel/peacefrog


End file.
